


All The Difference

by Granspn



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Multi, ehhhh i'll add more relationships and characters as they appear?, even if it was only for like fifteen minutes, except we can't really ignore the fact that anakin became a sith, so like. he should experience some repercussions mayhaps
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 06:02:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13518057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Granspn/pseuds/Granspn
Summary: What if nobody won the duel on Mustafar? What if Obi-Wan was able to save Anakin instead of leaving him to burn? What will become of the republic? The Jedi? The Skywalker clan? All this and more in this loosely planned AU."'It’s over Anakin! I have the high ground!' Obi-Wan yelled from the top of the hill. After all that, and he was still underestimating him, Anakin thought. But before he jumped up and proved him wrong, he began to make one last calculation."





	1. The High Ground

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah! I've got a couple chapters of this planned- it's kind of a happily ever after fix-it except we can't really ignore the fact that Anakin did become a sith even if it was only for like fifteen minutes. Chapter 1 is short but hopefully the others will be longer. It's my jam; let me know if it's yours.

“It’s over Anakin! I have the high ground!” Obi-Wan yelled from the top of the hill. After all that, and he was still underestimating him, Anakin thought. But before he jumped up and proved him wrong, he began to make one last calculation. If he attempted the maneuver he was planning, there’s no way he would make it out unscathed. Instead of flipping up and overtaking Obi-Wan as he’d planned, Anakin stepped onto the base of the hill.

“You underestimate my power,” he muttered with derision. Still, his eye was drawn to the glowing blue of his lightsaber, stark against the flaming red of Mustafar’s lava rivers. Obi-Wan wasn’t about to let his guard down, but sensing Anakin’s hesitation, he continued calmly, softly; some might even have called it tender.

“You were the Chosen One,” he began, his voice full of regret. “It was said that you would, destroy the Sith, not join them,” he went on, thinking not only of Anakin’s failures but of the council’s, of his own. “It was you who would bring balance to the Force, not leave it in Darkness.” With this, he outstretched an arm, honing in on the glimmer of hope indicating Anakin might actually give up his weapon. Finally, Anakin raised his eyes to meet Obi-Wan’s.

“I hate you,” Anakin said flatly, his voice lacking passion. In a sinister way, he seemed amused by the irony of the situation. Dueling with his old master to defend an empire started by the chancellor of the republic. Anakin’s eyes were still yellow, a mark of the Sith, but Obi-Wan swore they had faded. Well, he reasoned, they don’t call him The Negotiator for nothing. Anakin was wavering, he could sense it. He took another step forward and tried his last tactic: honesty.

“You’re my brother, Anakin,” he said earnestly. Despite the two ignited lightsabers between them, Obi-Wan knew what he had to say. “I love you.” Anakin and his attachments. They’d all known they would be the death of the galaxy one day. But now, Obi-Wan was learning, they would be its savior.

Anakin felt as if he were being torn apart. All those sleepless nights seemed to hit him at once like a spice freighter. His saber fell from his fingers as he dropped to his knees at Obi-Wan’s feet. Obi-Wan disengaged his own lightsaber and slowly clipped it to his belt before approaching the trembling Anakin. Obi-Wan crouched next to him and got him to lay an arm around him so he could carry him back to Padmé’s ship like that, supporting him as he shuffled along.

“I’m sorry, master, I’m sorry,” Anakin kept repeating, his sooty face streaked clean with tears. “I’m sorry, master, I’ve failed you.”

“No,” Obi-Wan said,“Well, yes, you have.” Wit rests for no man. “But I have failed you as well.” Even Anakin couldn’t argue with that. Leaning heavily against each other, they staggered back to the ship.


	2. The Wrong Jedi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The craziest of crazies! Sith, Jedi, fighting, lava, babies!? Argument, Palpatine, fleeing the scene, hiding in a med ship, crashing on Padmé's couch for a week because technically it’s a-nar-chy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell I'm Clone Wars trash? Anyway, let's check in with our favorite senator and try and subtly get in all the exposition I need for this AU to actually be consistent.

As they approached Padmé’s ship, Obi-Wan could only think of the mess they had gotten themselves into. Himself and Anakin could very well be the last of the Jedi. He shuddered at the thought. The clones had turned against them, at Palpatine’s orders. After the temple, he assumed the senate had come under attack. He wondered how any of them could possibly have made it out alive. He could also sense that Anakin’s thoughts were a little more singular: Padmé. Anakin began to regain his strength as they neared the ship. Remarkably, he was too distracted, (or was it focused?) to notice the additional presence on board. It only took Obi-Wan an extra moment to process was he was feeling, and despite himself, he was overcome with relief.

Anakin raced on board the ship to be at Padmé’s side. Her only company at present was a med droid who informed them that after she’d gone into labor she’d been drifting in an out of consciousness, and would likely be delivering the babies soon.

“Babies?” Anakin repeated. Before they had time process that shoe, the other dropped. More specifically, a tea tray dropped, making a loud clatter around the corner.

“Ah, kriff,” said a female voice, “Threepio, start another pot of tea, will you? I’ve gotta check on Pa–” she stopped short when she saw her new visitors. Obi-Wan had to sit down.

“Snips,” Anakin breathed, the nickname emerging as a reflex. She didn’t smile. She’d grown. Her boots were scuffed. She’d constructed two new lightsabers. And she was here. She shook her head at him for a brief moment before she strode with purpose over to where he stood at Padmé’s bedside and enveloped him in a hug. He stood still, stunned for a moment, before remembering to hug her back, his chin resting atop her montrals, unadorned by the padawan beads he remembered.

“Anakin,” she said into his chest, “You incredible, karking idiot.”

“Hey,” a faint voice said from behind him, “That’s my husband you’re talking about.”

“Padmé!” Anakin announced instinctively as the three Jedi (well, two Jedi and a part-timer) (well, one Jedi and two part-timers) gathered around her bed.

“I didn’t realize we were getting the band back together,” Padmé said weakly, her eyes red from exhaustion, but a contented smile forming on her lips. She was only met with blank stares. “Okay,” she continued, “I called Ahsoka.” When nobody responded still, she continued to explain herself, “I was angry,” she said, sounding anything but, “with Anakin, with the Jedi. I needed someone with her point of view to help me figure out who the real bad guys were– agh!” She flinched in pain, clenching Anakin’s left hand in her right.

“It’s okay, my love. Everything will be okay,” Anakin said, as they were all now ignoring any remaining pretense that he and the senator were merely friends.

“And she knew I’d totally be able to talk you down from the edge,” Ahsoka added, giving Anakin a reassuring if not the tiniest bit sarcastic pat on the shoulder.

The epic scale of his fuck-up was finally starting to hit him. It had been one thing to beg for forgiveness from Obi-Wan on the lava bank, it was another entirely to imagine standing trial for treason before the senate. The senate! What was even left of it? Padmé, of course. Probably a resourceful few he’d dealt with over the years, Organa, Mothma, maybe a few others. Or would the chancellor- no, the emperor- no, Sidious - would Darth Sidious have wiped everyone out by now, as had been his plan? Sending Anakin after Obi-Wan must have meant that every easier task had already been achieved. With every blink Anakin saw Master Windu falling from the great height of Palpatine’s office window as Anakin continued to be manipulated by a lord of the Sith. Reluctantly, he imagined what became of his troopers, of Rex and Cody, loyal to the last, and the dozens of fallen Jedi he’d been directly implicit in murdering. He might not feel like Vader, like Darth kriffing Vader, a moniker that was sure to haunt him the rest of his force-damn life, but he was still a monster, a cold-blooded killer. 

***

Hours passed aboard the medical ship as Padmé rested in brief spurts, then woke, moaning in pain. Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka took turns at Padmé’s side, holding her hand and dabbing her brow. The four of them coexisted in silence, feeling a kind of peace that hadn’t been attainable in the galaxy for what felt like generations. Despite the looming consequences, made only more terrifying by their uncertainty, the ship practically radiated love. The quiet was interrupted periodically by Threepio’s tutting and the rhythmic beeps of Padmé’s heart monitor. Anakin was resting his head gently beside hers on her pillow. He’d been giving her sips of water and words of encouragement, but eventually fell asleep with his left hand still on her cheek. Obi-Wan sat on a nearby bench, Ahsoka asleep on his shoulder. He laid his head gingerly upon hers.

He knew he must be physically disgusting at the moment. His hair was stuck to his forehead by a pasty mixture of charcoal and sweat. His cream colored robes were coated in soot and his cloak was still on the surface of Mustafar, probably disintegrating as they fled…somewhere. He hadn’t actually bothered to check the navicomputer and find out exactly where they were going. It couldn’t have been Coruscant; that was far too risky. Of course, he knew they’d have to go back eventually. Padmé’s whole life was there, not to mention his and Anakin’s. And Anakin was certainly going to have to stand a trial of some sort, even if it was just the two of them and Yoda in a room trying to explain what happened and why he shouldn’t be given an immediate death sentence. He was certainly going to have to brush up on his litigation before they made planetfall back there. He postulated they were probably headed for Naboo. Nestled in the mid-rim, it was probably remote enough that they’d have time to recoup before the inevitable return of the Jedi to the temple. He imagined drinking a cup of piping hot herbal tea by a still lake, meditating to the happy coos of Anakin and Padmé to their children. And what a strange thought that was indeed, that it would bring him so much solace.

The reverie was interrupted by Padmé cursing loudly in Huttese, an expression likely learned from Anakin.

“I think this is really happening!” She said, more than a hint of panic in her voice.

“Hey,” Anakin said, tipping her chin towards him so she could see his broad smile, “I have a really good feeling about this.” And he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: Twins, Naboo, rendezvous with old friends, and the triumphant (?) return to Coruscant.


	3. Never Tell Me the Odds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin’s feeling confident about his kids’ futures! Just as long as him and his three friends and two (where was R2 anyway?) droids could reestablish order in the galaxy. Or something like that.

The twins’ birth was relatively uneventful. That’s not to say they wanted it any other way. Padmé wanted nothing more than the birth of her children to be less eventful than the literal collapse of her society as she knew it. They were called Luke and Leia, as all parents want a better life for their children than they had and Padmé and Anakin were sick of having to explain to strangers how to spell and pronounce their own names. Anakin at least felt the kids had a pretty good chance of that at this point. Just as long as him and his three friends and two (where was R2 anyway?) droids could reestablish order in the galaxy. Or something like that. 

***

Padmé had made arrangements to stay with her parents months ago. After all, she had planned on having the baby back on Naboo and essentially improvising from there, as she new was Anakin’s forte. So when they arrived at the Naberrie’s luxurious lakeside home, Anakin pushing Padmé in a wheelchair while Obi-Wan and Ahsoka each toted one of the babies, they were less than surprised.

“We weren’t expecting you for at least another week, sweetheart!” Padmé’s mother said.

“But we’re so glad to see you’ve made it back in one piece,” her father added, planting a kiss on his daughter’s forehead and taking the wheelchair from Anakin.

“All of you,” Mrs. Naberrie said, with a meaningful glance in Anakin’s direction that he didn’t feel he’d entirely earned. After all, he was the reason anybody had to worry about their safety, and if anyone had come back missing a piece, it was him.

“That you so much for your hospitality,” Anakin said with a small bow, once they were all settled inside, poised to be scattered throughout various guest rooms. Ahsoka new they were spread out now but didn’t see that lasting too long. It had been so long since she’d seen Skywalker and Kenobi face to face, let alone slept under the same roof. Just feeling their presence in the force was so overwhelming, she almost looked forward to meditating on it with them. While Anakin went off with Padmé into their room with their children (Anakin? With children? Well, Ahsoka supposed, she turned out all right, didn’t she?) Ahsoka approached Obi-Wan.

“Master Kenobi,” she said, bowing her head in respect. The custom and title were so familiar, her body unable to shirk the muscle memory of the Jedi rituals, and yet, the words felt foreign and stiff in her mouth, like something really had been destroyed when Anakin fell. The entire galaxy, resting on her master’s shoulders as if he were the fulcrum keeping it balanced.

“Please, Ahsoka. I’m not your master.” Anticipating her protest, Obi-Wan went on, “Who even knows what remains of the Jedi? Our traditions are far less important than our numbers.”

“When our numbers are so few, what have we but traditions?” Ahsoka countered.

“Oh?” Obi-Wan inclined his head, urging her to go on.

“But, I mean, uh, master, uh, I mean–“ Ahsoka backpedaled, “I’m no Jedi. I’m just saying.”

“You’re wise beyond your years, young one,” Obi-Wan said, “You must have had an excellent master. Who had an excellent master.” He managed to keep his expression serious, but his eyes betrayed him with their playful glint. Ahsoka sighed and threw herself down on the Naberrie’s sofa.

“What are we going to do about him? My excellent master, I mean,” she said.

“He knows what he has to do. He’s willing to answer for his actions. I won’t fail him this time. Not like I failed you.”

Ahsoka nodded, understanding. She even offered a small smile. It wasn’t forgiveness, but an acknowledgement of Obi-Wan’s remorse. Finally, she simply said, “We have to go back to Coruscant.”

“Indeed. And face the threat that awaits us there.” Obi-Wan’s entire body ached from his duel with Anakin. Not to mention the emotional toll he was totally going to have to process later over a not insubstantial amount of Corellian whiskey. He grew exhausted just imagining a duel with Sidious, but remembering he would have Ahsoka by his side, if not Anakin as well, strengthened him.

Obi-Wan’s comm flashed. Out of battery. As it had been for probably the past twelve standard hours. He hadn’t bothered to charge it on the trip here, which was probably irresponsible, but who exactly was he going to have to answer to about it? He hadn’t had room in his head for more than the three people in front of him, the people he was closest to in this galaxy, experiencing some of the hardest days in their lives.

“Are you going to check that?” Ahsoka asked.

“Yes, I suppose I should.” He got up to find a power source. “Now that you’re around, I’m going to have to get used to setting a good example again.”

“Sure, Kenobi. And the fact that you’re gonna be raising two Jedi infants!”

“Excuse me?” Obi-Wan said, but he was smiling. She was right. These twins were almost going to belong to all of them. He’d be surprised if he and Ahsoka weren’t honorary aunts and uncles by the end of the night.

As it powered back up, Obi-Wan’s comm beeped furiously.

“Sixty-six missed messages?” He read out, alarmed. And one incoming call. Now’s as good a time as any, he thought. He checked the caller code and almost couldn’t believe his eyes. He answered.

“General! Thank the stars! It’s been hours! Where the hell have you been?” A familiar voice emerged, his holographic image flickering.

“Rex?” Ahsoka jumped up from the couch and bolted across the quaint family room, nearly taking out a few antiques.

“Commander,” Rex acknowledged, “Boy, am I glad to see you back in action.”

“You, too, captain. But, I heard…” Ahsoka trailed off.

“About the clones?” Rex finished, “Yeah. Me too.” His facial expression was hard but it was clear he was grieving, confused, betrayed. It was catching.

“Rex,” Obi-Wan said, “have you managed to make contact with anyone else?”

“Yes, sir,” Rex answered, “I’ve made contact with Wolffe and Gregor, but they’re both off planet. I could send coordinates for a rendezvous but–”

“Off-planet?” Obi-Wan interjected, “You mean you’re on-planet?”

“Yes, sir. I managed to make it out of the city to search for more defectors but not luck. I hate to tell you this, but it’s a kriffing wasteland out here.”

“I’d imagine,” Obi-Wan said somberly.

“So,” Rex prompted, “I see you’re back with Tano. Any news of General Skywalker?” Rex certainly didn’t have the whole story. Obi-Wan figured it was up to Anakin to break his various news - secret marriage, secret kids, secret Sith Lord - but it wasn’t necessary to keep Rex completely in the dark.

“Yes. Yes we have.” Rex’s face visibly softened. Obi-Wan continued, “He’s here with us on Naboo. We, er, encountered Pa- er, Senator Amidala while we were, er, making our escape. She suggested we hide here while we planned our next move.”

“Good cover,” Ahsoka mumbled, elbowing Obi-Wan’s side. He placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to contain his smile. It was more than distasteful to be joking at a time like this. The Jedi order had been decimated, not to mention nearly all of Rex’s brothers. But grief was so exhausting, and forgiveness comes easily to a Jedi. At least that boded well for Anakin, if it was the Jedi he would have to face in trial.

“Anakin’s resting,” Obi-Wan explained, to account for his absence. “He took the brunt of much of our struggle to get off world.” Not technically a lie, Obi-Wan rationalized. Ahsoka rolled her eyes.

“I see,” said Rex.

Together, the three of them formulated a plan. The rendezvous had to occur as soon as possible if they were going to pull off some sort of effective triage on Coruscant. Coordinates for Coruscanti space would be broadcast on a special Jedi frequency, along with a message from Obi-Wan explaining the situation. Most of it, anyway. He hoped that any of his contacts would be reaching him personally, soon. He prayed he would hear from Yoda, get some assurances that the Jedi had not been destroyed. He didn’t even know how he would go about rebuilding the order, or even if he should. Simultaneously, he prayed he wouldn’t. Communication from the grandmaster would mean answering for Anakin’s actions, and he didn’t have high hopes for how they’d be received upon their arrival. Still, he knew the Force will out. And what will be will be. And he should really just hope they all made it back to Coruscant alive.

Rex sent out a separate signal, hoping to contact more clone defectors. He estimated it would take no more than three standard days for Gregor and Wolffe to reach the rendezvous points from their disparate locations, and so the date was set. By their calculations, every remaining ally to the republic would be convened a few kilometers above Coruscant in three days to take on the galactic empire. Rex didn’t want to know the odds of their survival. 

***

It had only been a day since his master was murdered in front of him, and Caleb Dume already felt as though he’d aged a hundred years. Master Billaba, betrayed by her own men. The men, betrayed by their government. And Caleb, shivering in the forests of Kaller, alone in the galaxy. When he received a transmission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I've only seen the first two seasons of Rebels and I've had to get my Kanan lore from wookiepedia - I'm trying not to fuck with canon too much (except for the obvious) but anyway that's where I'm comin from on that front. Thanks for the kudos guys!


End file.
